The Shaded Parlor

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Fifteen years ago, I had stood looking at the rental truck that held the contents of my life. Will, Mistress’ handyman, was behind the wheel. I would be leading him to the storage shed I’d rented to hold it all.

“Are you sure this is all?” he asked me. The truck was packed with box after box of my possessions. The only furniture was a bed with its mattress and box-spring and one overstuffed chair. I probably could have taken more furniture but didn’t know what I’d need or where I was going to put it.

“Yup, this is it, the culmination of six years in servitude.” We looked at each other and chuckled.

“Then let’s go. We can get this all moved before lunch.”

“All right, you know where the sheds are, if we get separated. I’ve got unit 63.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

I got into my old Mercedes and headed toward town, where I’d leave my life until I decided what to do with it. I held myself back from crying as we pulled away. I’d lived here for six years. Six beautiful years with the woman I adored. Now she had gone off to Europe to be cured of a disease I hadn’t even been told about. She had simply gone away, leaving the rest of us to stagger around. Well, I’m sure the others could find new jobs soon, maybe not as cushy as this one, but enough to live on.

Me? I wasn’t sure what I could do. I didn’t really have an occupation to go back to. I hadn’t had to have a job in several years, and I doubted I’d see a job opening for a lesbian s*x slave/companion listed anywhere.

I might be able to get a job in a clothing store like I used to have. Perhaps then I’d meet another rich woman like her. But these days, there were very few like her, so those prospects seemed out of the question. At least I could get a job in something like retail clothing. I was very customer service oriented and knew what looked good and how to suggest alternatives if it didn’t. I still had the ability to read people’s wants and needs. That was probably my biggest asset.

Then another thought struck me: I could get a job in a big restaurant as a hostess. I was pretty and had a cultured style. I could do things with my long auburn hair that always got me compliments and I could be charming. The more I thought about it, the better that alternative sounded. Yes, a hostess would be a good job for me.

I’d have to sit down and figure out what I really had. I had a lot of fashionable clothes, and some fine jewelry, lots of shoes and accessories, but did I have money? I hadn’t had to think about that in years either. I knew I had at least four thousand in my savings, so at least I could eat while I looked for work and a place to live. I should probably look for a job first. Then I’d know how much I could afford for an apartment. It was going to be difficult remembering all the things I had to consider now.

I finally pulled into the storage shed lot and steered down the row until I came to unit 63. I left room for Will to back the truck up so it would be easy to unload the boxes from the truck to the shed.

Well, this is it, I thought as I got out of my car. “I’ve got all the boxes marked,” I told Will as he opened the back doors of the truck. “The boxes marked W are winter coats, boots, and things so they can go toward the back. The Es are everyday, so they should be near the front. The Ms are miscellaneous, like books and things that will be stored for a while, so I guess they can go toward the back, too.”

“Alright. Let’s get started. This one’s a ‘D’. Where’s it go?”

“D is for dressy so I may need them for a job interview. I guess put it off to the side so they’re accessible.”

“At least you got a big unit, so you’ll be able to get around things.”

I chuckled. “And I can sleep in here if need be, at least until it gets cold, unless I get caught.”

“There’s really no room to set the bed up,” he said.

I grinned. “No. I won’t need the bed. I can sleep on top of the boxes.”

He shook his head as he started to remove more boxes from the truck.

“What’s the ‘VD’? I didn’t think you had any STDs!”

We both broke out laughing. “Very Dressy!” I hadn’t even thought of that. “I guess I have to be more careful what I write, huh?”

He laughed as he carried that box to the back.

We both worked hard to get everything unloaded and placed where I could find things when I needed them. It was just after noon when he slammed the back doors on the empty truck shut.

“Can I buy you lunch?” I asked.

“Nah, you don’t have to. I think Lena will still have something for us. I don’t think she’s leaving until next week.”

“I’m not going back. It’s too hard.”

He looked at me, sadness in his eyes. “I imagine. Now, you take care of yourself, ya hear? Things will look better. Keep your chin up.”

“You, too, Will.” Then I reached forward and hugged him tightly.

“I’ll get the truck back to the rental place. Don’t worry. Just be careful.” He turned without another word, got into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. I stood back as he backed away down the row, then turned and drove off.

Now I could cry. I sat on one of the boxes and let the tears come. It was a good thing I thought to put some tissues in my handbag. That part of my life was over. I’d never see any of those people again.

After getting out a good cry, I walked to my car and pulled another pack of tissues from the glove compartment to wipe my face. Why had I let myself cry? I’d already said goodbye to Lena, our housekeeper and George, her chauffeur, so there was no reason to feel sad. Look at this as a new beginning, you’re on your own now, you’re free, there’s no one telling you what to do or say. You are your own person. Start acting like it. You can do this. You did it when you left home twelve years ago. And there was just as much there to miss…and much more to run away from. Stand up for yourself Julianna Dellone. This is the start of the next part of your life.

I locked up the storage unit and got into my car. I drove down the block to a convenience store and bought two donuts and a cup of mocha cappuccino coffee. I hadn’t had either in the last six years. As I munched on the donut, I stopped at the ATM to see how much I had left. I typed in my pin code and almost choked. My hand was shaking so badly that I had to set my coffee down before I slopped it all over the store. This couldn’t be my account. I withdrew my card, pressed “end,” and took a deep breath. I took a massive chug of my coffee, finished that donut, set the coffee back down, and inserted my card again. I entered my pin.

The same total came up.

Maybe I should call the bank and double check. I knew her lawyer said she’d put a little money in my account to “get me started,” but that would be maybe a few hundred, or at the most a thousand. Someone had put the wrong number in there. This couldn’t be right. That wasn’t a little money. There were many too many zeros. I’d better check this.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the bank. When there was an answer, I entered all the identification required and asked for my balance. After a moment, I received the same answer, so I pressed the number to talk to a real person.

“May I help you?” came over my phone.

“I was just checking my balance and there seems to be some kind of error. Would you check it for me?”

“Certainly, what is your name and account number?”

Once again, I had to go through all the questions to prove I was who I said I was.

“What seems to be the problem with it?” he asked.

“It seems to be too much. When was the last deposit?”

A pause and then, “The last deposit was three days ago in the amount of ten million dollars from Vale du Martin Vineyards in Nevers, France. Is that incorrect?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Ms. Dellone? Are you still there?”

I guess I hadn’t said anything in a while. “Uh…yes. I’m here. I just wasn’t expecting it to be that much.”

“Well, Ms. Dellone. Your account seems to be in order. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Again, I was tongue tied. “Uh…no,” I finally managed. “Thank you. I guess that’s all.” and I hung up.

I had ten million dollars! I guess I didn’t have to worry about finding a job, but…what was I going to do with it? What was I going to do…with me? Ten million dollars? That was a hell of a lot of money. I couldn’t even comprehend what that was. I knew fifty thousand would buy a fairly good car, but ten million? That was two hundred very good cars…or forty spectacular cars!

I downed the rest of my coffee and my second donut and put my card back in the ATM. I withdrew one hundred dollars of my own money to have something in my pocket and decided to find a hotel room so I could go somewhere and rest…and think about that money. I had four thousand, three hundred and eighty-two, less the hundred I’d just taken out, of my own money from before I met her. Let me work with that first, until I decided what to do with the ten million dollars. Ten million! She’d just given me that money? Was it severance pay? A consolation prize? Or had she really died and that was left to me in her will? Damn! I needed to talk to her! What did she want me to do with it?

I took a deep breath and rubbed my forehead. Oh, damn. It didn’t matter. It was mine now. I could do whatever the hell I wanted with it.

Still not used to being a millionaire, I rented a room at a cheaper hotel that rented by the week. Well, not just a room, I splurged and got a suite at five hundred dollars for the week. What would she say about that? She thought nothing of renting a suite that cost two thousand for one night! And this had free coffee and donuts in the mornings included. Maybe I’d make up my mind about what I was going to do before the end of the week.

Five hundred a week? I pulled up the calculator on my phone and entered ten million, divided it by five hundred and then by fifty-two. Cripes! I had enough money to stay here for almost three hundred and eighty-five years.

I entered more numbers. There was enough to fly to Europe and back, first class, almost thirty-five hundred times. And to have that fabulous dinner at that restaurant in Paris that I’d loved over eighty thousand times, or every day for over two hundred and nineteen years.

No! I had to stop this. This was making me crazy. I’d go bonkers if I kept doing this. Just go to your room and relax for a while until this shock wore away. But would it ever?